In one of my favorite essays by the humorist David Sedaris, he recounts his experience of chasing after his husband Hugh on their various vacations. Sedaris writes, “Most of Hugh’s and my travel arguments have to do with pace. I’m a fast walker, but he has longer legs, and likes to maintain a good 20-foot lead. To the casual observer, he would appear to be running from me, intentionally trying to lose himself. All my energy goes into keeping track of Hugh, and as a result I don’t get to enjoy anything.”
I understand Sedaris’ plight. I am married to a former professional athlete, five inches taller and much fitter than I, and so I also often engage in a sort of skip trot behind my wife’s fast, easy clip. And so, it is not surprising that I was drawn to the discussion of travel pace in this week’s Torah portion, Vayishlach.
Soon after reconciling, Esau says to Jacob, “Let us start on our journey, and I will proceed at your pace.” Jacob politely turns down his brother’s offer, telling him, “I travel slowly, at the pace of the cattle before me and at the pace of the children” (Genesis 33:12-14). And so the brothers part ways, Esau heading south while Jacob heads north.
I’ve recently learned that, in the world of professional long-distance running, there are individuals called pacers or rabbits, who are paid to help professional athletes set the pace of a race in the early stages, allowing them not only to win a race, but also to hit a personal best or to make a world record. A pacer will drop out of a competition after leading a champion runner through a specified initial distance at a set time. In the world of sports, the subject of pacers is controversial — they’re illegal in some races — and yet they can be credited with helping many of the world’s elite athletes win races and set records.
In reflecting on Jacob and Esau’s discussion of pace and the existence of rabbits in the running and sports world, it occurs to me that our lives are often influenced by the pacers among us. Esau is willing to change his speed to match his brother’s. Jacob is concerned with the health and wellbeing of his children and cattle, not wanting to drive them too hard, graciously willing to slow down for their benefit.
I think all of us have kept different paces at different points in our lives. In moments of collaboration and connection, like Esau, we may be willing to change our speed to match a colleague or friend’s. Many of us, especially those of us with young children, can easily identify with Jacob, as we continually readjust pace to account for nap times, sick days, new explorations and shifting meal habits. Those of us who are approaching retirement, seeking a promotion, hustling to find new work or focusing on our families, set paces accordingly. And, those of us who are caring for aging parents, facing our own diagnoses or making health-related decisions for family members witness adjusting speeds, as well.
The world is full of pacers, paid or not, and our strides adjust accordingly.
The difference between Sedaris’ vacation arguments with his husband and Torah’s discussion of rapidity between the two brothers is agency. Sedaris finds himself left, gasping to keep up. Jacob and Esau were each, in their own ways, willing to slow down.
The same is true in our lives. Each of us has our own definition of what constitutes a healthy speed by which we travel this world. In Selah, a leadership program I completed through the social justice organization Bend the Arc (Jewish Funds for Justice at the time), I was taught that if we find we are continually telling ourselves, “Once this deadline passes, things will slow down,” we have entered into an unsustainable race, for there will always be another deadline. Living sustainably means moving at a speed we can maintain.
When we are struck by physical limitations, welcome a new baby into the world or are confronted by grief, we may find ourselves forced to slow down. But, what about the times we find ourselves speeding past our brothers, children and cattle? When we race right past the sensible rabbit? And what about the times life requires us to speed up, and we find ourselves dragging our feet?
I believe this is Torah’s message to us this week: Whether we are traveling north or south, the pace we take up matters. I invite us to imagine the rabbit we might hire. How much time would a professional life-pacer allow for rest and leisure, for family and work, for volunteering and social commitments, for our own pursuits and those of our loved ones? As we imagine that professional setting our stride, let us also imagine how close to our goal we currently are. As we head off to our next destination,
may we find the wisdom to arrive in wholeness and peace.
Rabbi Jocee Hudson is rabbi educator at Temple Israel of Hollywood, a Reform congregation.
